Tentacles Will Never Hurt You
by ZombieMops
Summary: Klaus never really considered himself a voyeur, but it was a habit he was happy to learn. Klaus/Ben, tentacles.


It wasn't unusual at all for Klaus to sneak out of his bedroom at night, just to hover over to Ben's window, to slip inside and annoy him until they both fell asleep, either in the bed or on the floor or wherever they had been sitting. It was a familiar routine that had been going on for quite a while now, in fact. And if for some reason Ben wasn't there to greet him, Klaus would sit in the tree outside his window wait for him to show up and invite him in. (Ben had repeatedly requested that Klaus just not randomly break into his room on a whim; Klaus had decided to at least _attempt_ to oblige him when he remembered.)

The tree outside was where Klaus was sitting at that very moment, in fact, casually smoking a clove cigarette and keeping only a very poor eye on Ben's bedroom. Klaus only became aware of Ben's return when he heard the door inside click shut. He leaned carefully over on his branch, fully expecting Ben to check the window and invite him in like a friendly vampire.

To Klaus' mild surprise, his brother neglected to check the window, and instead locked his bedroom door before moving awkwardly like a damn duck out of water across the carpet to collapse onto his bed.

Struck by a sudden brilliant idea, Klaus slunk back into the dark cover of the tree; Ben would get up a second to check the window, he was sure, and when he did Klaus was going to pop out like a fucking ghost and scare the jesus out of Ben. And it was going to be awesome.

But he never did approach the window and Klaus never did get that awesome chance. Klaus leaned forward off his branch again, the bed barely coming into view. Ben was still sitting across it, back against the wall and pale hand working furiously against the front of his nice dark pants.

Stupidly, Klaus' first thought was _unbutton your pants, idiot!_ before he realized what exactly was happening practically right in front of him. And... he was a little okay with it.

Like an answered prayer, Ben unzipped the front of his pants, carefully slipping his hand underneath the waist band of his boxers. His face was screwed up in utter concentration, bright red with either arousal or embarrassment, and still, despite everything, keeping his hand inside of his pants. The unnecessary modesty was both sort of cute and _infinitely frustrating. _Part of Klaus wanted to scream that no one was watching him, but that would have been a frankly fucking terrible lie.

Inside, Ben continued, oblivious to his audience, face softening in it's embarrassment as a soothing tentacle unfurled out from under his untucked shirt and twisted around his upper leg. The appendage squeezed around his leg while other tentacles joined the first, twisting and curling around him.

The tentacles seemed to be a cue for something and finally, fucking finally, Klaus thought, Ben shifted and twisted his hips up, hands free as obliging tentacles took care of the removal of his pants and drawers for him, chucking them off to some far corner of the room. Idly, Klaus wished he had a better viewpoint.

His brother was turning on the bed now, on his bare knees, palms and forehead pressed flat against the wall while roaming tentacles folded around his legs, sliding over pale bare skin and twisting around his midsection, devilishly obscuring Klaus' view.

He could see Ben was panting now, his (unfortunately clothed) back being the easiest thing to see, rising up and down with each laboured breath. The tentacles writhed collectively, slipsliding against one another, and Klaus _saw_ his breath hitch, his back go rod-straight and then arch with a shudder. ...Oh jesus, wait, were those things inside... _Fuck. _Klaus dug his fingers painfully into the branch, coming to a realization; Ben had done this before.

This information sent heat shooting down to pool in his stomach, dick twitching to attention in his tight jeans.

On the bed was a writhing tangle of twisting tentacles and squirming male, Ben carefully keeping himself upright as the tentacles thrust, pushing and pulling him against and away from the wall, fingernails scraping down the wallpaper, his eyes screwed shut and mouth lax and open. As soon as his eyes trained on that mouth did Klaus notice Ben was talking, muttering, muffled by the window between them. Damnable curiosity got the best of him, and with a single thought the window was unlocked, creaking open just slightly, Ben far too preoccupied to notice the noise.

Almost at once the soft sounds of pants, groans, and soft whimpers filtered through into the night air. Klaus had to strain, switching branches and leaning forward to hear the slight muttering.

"...Mhm... ahh-ahhh..."

Klaus cupped his crotch in a crude imitation of Ben earlier, eyes shut and hand squeezing as he listened intently, because _fucking hell _if he was going to miss a moment of that.

"Ahh, nnnh... p-please..." What in hell could he be asking for? "Please, j-just, mmm... just harder... Klaus, p-please, harder..."

Oh, _jesus._

There was another collective shudder as the tentacles surged forwards, but Klaus was too busy struggling with the zipper on his damn jeans to notice Ben's breathy gasp.

So Ben was imagining it was him who was doing_ that_ to him? Well, that was okay then, Klaus thought, because he could very well imagine in return that that wasn't his hand wrapped around his painfully erect dick, but Ben instead.

Klaus' eyes flicked back up to the scene before him. Ben had slid down the wall and lay resting his elbows against the pillows, tentacles pulsating in and out of him hard, rhythmic, writhing around him and holding his knees tight to the mattress.

Klaus could very, very well imagine that it wasn't those tentacles making Ben groan, but him. Only he'd be so much better than those tentacles...those hellish appendages were useful, though, perfect for holding Ben in place, spreading his legs for him like they were doing for themselves. And there was no way Klaus would be as gentle as those things. Ben had requested _hard, _and Klaus would keep to that, would push his head down, pull his hair and yank him up and back, bruise his hips and fuck him senseless.

"Nnnh, ah, _god!_"

And god, yes, Klaus would take him like that, pressed up against the wall like he had been. But he wasn't a picky man, wherever and however he was would be perfect, and suddenly Klaus was struck with the sudden urge to have his brother on his back, see how far back his legs could bend, how loud he could make him scream-

"God, _Klaus...!_"

The breathy moan of his name broke the camel right in half and he spilled himself over the edge and all over his hand and jeans. Looking up through still-bleary eyes, the tentacles were retreating, curling in on themselves and twisting back up underneath Ben's now-wrinkled shirt.

Ben was panting, looking nigh exhausted and strangely troubled. He wiped himself clean, and with that expression still on his face, curled up on the bed, yanking the covers the wrong way up and pulling them over himself without anything further.

Watching him curled under the blanket, Klaus felt a wave of fatigue hit him as well. He wiped his hand on the bark and was about to float back to his own room when he turned once last time and noticed Ben's back again. It was shuddering and shaking again, but not with pants or gasps. He could hear through the still-cracked window the soft sounds of crying and choked sniffling, muffled under the quilt.

For a moment Klaus was baffled. He'd just had a nice fuck, why would he be-

Oh.

_Oh. _

They... they were going to have to have a Talk, weren't they?


End file.
